Revolution Calling
by pedosmile
Summary: The Vietnamese, well, they wouldn't be allowed to do this because they weren't free and who, exactly, was fighting for their freedom? No one. And everyone deserved a chance. -- Vietnam War


**Revolution Calling

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**Authors Note:** This is just my own personal spin on how America feels about the Vietnam war.

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_My mission changed the world  
The underground will rise and  
Save this world we'll all stand proud  
Our mission changed the world,  
We'll change the world  
We'll all stand proud_  
**The Mission - Queensryche**  


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Everyone is smiling at him with that invisible gun to their head, like there's some invisible person at their ear, whispering at them to smile or else they're going to pull the trigger. Just look, just smile, ignore that swell of disappointment or agitation, ignore the fact that he fucked up, just ignore it all and _pretend pretend pretend_. Because everyone was pretending, everyone was fake in this room, in this moment, no one was real. No one was ever real when they secretly supported him and yet, on the outside, to their people, they told everyone, told _him_, that it was wrong, he was wrong, but in secret they'd whisper: _"Maybe you're doing the right thing, you are, don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. You're being a hero, you're stopping the spread, you're stopping a potential World War III_...._"_ they'd lie. Lie.

Everyone always lied.

And the ones who didn't look at him, the ones who would look away whenever he entered the room, the ones who pretend he wasn't there and _maybe if they looked away hard enough he would just disappear_. Those were the ones who didn't support him, who were opposed, who would yell at him or say in a _very_ stern tone that he was wrong. That he was being too rash, too stupid, and _"Don't you think of anyone else besides yourself?"_ And he knew everyone was thinking it, he could always read it in their eyes, their face, he could hear it in their tone of voice when they talked at (not _to_, no one ever talked _to_ him anymore, it was all just lectures and nonsense and repeats of speeches he's already heard) him. They were all thinking: "_Oh, Alfred, he's so young and so stupid. He thinks he's so strong, that he's invincible. Why can't he be more like ______"_ fill in the blank with whatever. If only he were more reasonable, more responsible, if he only stopped to think of others _just once_, if only....

But if he wasn't thinking of anyone else, then _who_ was he thinking of?

If he wasn't thinking of all those people who would be trapped in that stupid, terrible type of government, then who was he thinking of?

Didn't _anyone_ realize, _understand_, just how horrible the Vietnamese would be _treated_ if their government fell to communism? Didn't they...?

But of course they didn't. And if they did, they were just shaking it off and they were just thinking of _themselves_, they were just thinking of _their_ people and _their_ country because that's how all the nations were. They only thought of what was best for them, they only thought of what worked best for them, and _war_ was never good. Of course it was never good, everyone was scared of it, of what it could do, but Alfred... well, he...

He never just thought of himself. Of course, no one ever saw it that way. Everyone just thought he was young and stupid and bold and selfish. That he was just doing this to show off his strength, to show the world that "look, I'm not to be fucked with. I can take out all these Commie bastards _without_ the help of any other stronger nation" or something like that. But they should have known that his little show at Hiroshima was _just that_. A _show_ to the Russians, to show Ivan that he had the power now, that he was in control, that he couldn't be _touched_.

They should know that the Vietnam War _wasn't_ that.

It _wasn't_ because he didn't even want to enter it. He didn't want to tear a nation apart, he didn't want so many to kill and be killed, he didn't want all that death and destruction on his hands and conscience, he didn't want it because he _knew_ everyone would look at him with those fake eyes and fake smiles and just shake their head disapprovingly and "_Oh Alfred_" him then turn around when they were alone with him and just lie to his face and say how well he was doing. How this was better for everyone, for Vietnam, for her people, for the world, because if Communism continued to _spread_ and "_Aren't you the one who is so strongly against Communism, Alfred?_"

So what could he do? He could have said _no_, he _should_ have said _no_, but when he had so many people, so many nations looking to him to be the "hero", to "stop the spread of communism", when his people, his nation, his government, were for it, were ready to back him up, what could he do? What should he do? He only had so much _time_ to think of a decision, to stop and think like so many of the nations "wanted" him to do. Sure, they didn't support him "openly", but behind closed doors they would whisper their fears, they would look to _him_ because _he_ was the strong one now. _He_ was the one with enough power to do this.

It was funny how no one supported it openly, how everyone always criticized him and looked at him with _those_ eyes when they were around people. It was funny how worried they were over their reputation, over not wanting to dirty their hands. It was funny that no one had the courage or the guts to do what he was doing. That they only had enough bravery to tell him, _in secret_, that they thought he was doing what he needed to do _for everyone_.

Everyone whispered it, no one wanted to say it.

And, ultimately, it was fear that drove him into Vietnam, it was _fear_ that drove his government into starting the war, into sending all those troops into that unknown land with it's unknown people. He _never_ wanted all those innocent boys to be sent in, the ones who had never known a hard life, who had never known war or death or murder or destruction, who were still so fresh and so _young_. It was the _youth_ of his nation that government was sending it, it was the _youth_ that they were killing.

Alfred, himself, was torn, just like his nation was torn in two over this war. Half didn't support it, half of his people wanted those boys back home in the safety of this nation, didn't want all of the death and destruction to come to Vietnam, just like _he_ wanted. And then the other half were just as scared of the spread of Communism, the other half believed it would _help_, believed that _no_ nation should ever have to live under such a government, just like _he _thought, too.

All the nations thought he was for it.

They couldn't see what he was seeing, couldn't hear what he was hearing. They didn't know of the marches to Washington DC against the war, they didn't know of all the riots and protests, they didn't know that he was feeling that way, _too._

No one ever bothered to see him as a _human_ when it came to war. They only saw him as America, the land of the free, the home of the brave and the _strong_. America who _hated those Commie bastards_ and _wouldn't allow for anymore Communism_ and all of that stupid shit. No one ever bothered to ask how he felt, to see how he was, because they all just _assumed_ that he wanted it, that he wanted _everything_ and that he was just trying to be a _hero_ again and _Oh that Alfred._

He stands up in the middle of a lecture (he doesn't even know who's giving it because all the voices, all the faces, they're just starting to melt together at this point) and leaves the room. He doesn't care anymore, he's tired of hearing it, tired of hearing how wrong he was, how stupid he was, how he couldn't just be more like _them_, why he couldn't be more thoughtful, more smart, why he couldn't just _see_ what he was doing.

And whenever it was his turn to speak, they'd never listen. They'd just shuffle their papers, turn away, make passing comments or just shoot him down. And he could only just sit back in his chair and "listen" because he was still "so young and had way too much to learn".

They think they're helping.

He checks his pockets for his pack of cigarettes (he had taken up smoking because, you see, he always did right before he decided he was going to join his _boys,_ his _men_, in war, damned the consequences) as he moves outside, wondering vaguely for a moment what he was going to eat for lunch that day. If he even could eat. Lately he had just been puking the things he managed to eat right back up if he didn't _stare_ at the plate of food. And even the thought of food made his stomach roll, made him suddenly not so hungry, made him way more anxious than he should have been.

He wishes he could just call the war off but the government wouldn't have that. The president wouldn't have that.

They never listened either.

So then everyone thinks that, because of _their_ decisions, he's automatically _for_ something. And, of course, he had to act like it. He had to pretend he was because that's just what nations did. He couldn't be against it, he couldn't be rioting and protesting, he couldn't just say _no_ because then his people would see it, his people would start to wonder and start to have that doubt and fear that was just making him _sick_. So, he had to stand up on his soap box and yell about those commie bastards, how they were wrong, how they needed to _help_ Vietnam.

As he's lighting up his cigarette, he hears a familiar voice and when he turns he sees Taiwan standing near the door, nearly hiding, as if she's afraid of him. Many people, nations, were afraid of him. But once he catches her eye, she gets that bold look and steps out, steps closer to him, and says, "Don't listen to them, Alfred, they don't care like you do. They don't understand." she's so little compared to him.

He can remember when she first came to him, it was after another meeting, late at night, and she had caught his hand. She was shaking a bit because she had always been shy of other nations, nations that weren't Asian, nations that were big and powerful. But she had caught his hand and looked up at him, that bold look in her eye, and said, _"I will help you."_ and he just shook his head and said, _"Taiwan, you can't..."_ and she had just lifted her chin and said, _"That is _my _sister and I will not allow for that to happen to _her_. I know what it's like, I know how it feels, I just want her to be free...._" and when he had asked, "_Aren't you afraid of Yao?"_ she had just laughed and said, _"He can do whatever he wants to me and I will never be afraid of him..."_ and then he just smiled.

He liked to see that she wasn't afraid, he liked to see that she, a tiny little nation, was going to stand up right along with him.

And then she had whispered those words, the one that had made him think too much, _"What if this was happening to Matthew, Alfred? What would _you _do if this was your brother?"_

But Matthew was strong, Matthew could hold his own, Alfred knew that. But it was just that _what if_ that had got him thinking. That had made him say yes.

He takes a drag of his cigarette and offers her a smile, one that was genuine, and she just smiles right back and edges just a little bit closer.

"Even if they think it's wrong at least you're trying to help. At least you're doing something..." she says as she wrings her hands, glancing back over her shoulder for a second, as if she were waiting for someone to walk out and call her back inside. And then she turns back to him and says, "You're going in to fight, right...?"

"Yeah," he doesn't even lie to her because she doesn't deserve that. She deserves to know the truth because she was the one who was backing him, she was the one who was helping him, she was the one who would call him at night just to make sure he was okay and listen to his long rants about how afraid he was, how he knew this wasn't a good idea and she was the one who would just listen then tell him how afraid she was, too. She was afraid for her sister, for the people, for all the things that could happen. But she never once tried to tell him how wrong he was or how he shouldn't be doing this.

She never once lied to him.

She just nods, watching the smoke dance and twist off his cigarette, her brows knitting together in thought for a moment or two before she looks up at him, that look in her eyes again. He already knows what's coming, before she can even say it, and he says, "Women aren't allowed in war, Taiwan."

"I don't care. I'm sure Viet-jie is fighting, too, and I want to," she says, her voice strong. They stare at each other for a few moments.

"What are you trying to prove...?" he asks it carefully, taking another drag of his cigarette, and she looks like she's caught off guard for a moment. It was a question he had been asked millions of times by Arthur, by others, _"Just what are you trying to prove by fighting this war, Alfred?" _and he'd always say, _"That no one can live with that type of government. That everyone is allowed a chance for freedom if they are willing to fight for it. That they will be happier." _and they'd always just sigh and shake their head and cluck their tongues.

It was a question he had been asked all his life.

What _is_ he trying to prove? He had already proved that he was strong, that he didn't need England, that he was his _own_ nation and government. That he would continue to be. That he wouldn't fall as easily as everyone thought he would.  
_  
_She hesitates for a moment before dropping her hands, saying quietly, "Everyone thinks that I'm weak, that I'm stupid, that I can't do anything on my own. I want to show them that I can. That I can help protect my jie-jie, that I can protect myself. That I _don't_ need their help." her lips twist a bit as she finishes and he just grins because he knows how she feels.

"That sounds familiar," he laughs and she smiles softly at his laugh.

"You haven't done that in so long," she informs him and he chuckles again, taking another deep drag of his cigarette before replying, "When you're in war, there's not much you can feel happy about, you know? But one day this will all be over and I can laugh and smile again just like old times. I mean, that's what everyone expects of me anyways. And being depressed gets way too old. No one smiles anymore, do you notice that?"

He's just talking because he hasn't done it in so long. He's talking about things that don't matter, things that aren't about _war_ and it feels so nice.

She giggles and nods, "Yeah, they're all so boring and old anyways that I think they forget to smile."

"Unless it's over some victory or something." he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Arthur and Francis could be fighting over a damn _cup of water_ and whoever wins will gloat for _days_." he snickers again.

"So I've noticed," she smiled, leaning back onto the balls of her feat, hands behind her back. Before she can speak, however, Alfred is looking toward the door at Hong Kong, who is just watching them with his usual uninterested expression. When Taiwan follows his gaze, her face brightens and she says, "Di-di, I didn't know you were here!" she moves toward him and Hong Kong just nods, continuing to watch Alfred.

They say nothing. Alfred's waiting for the glare, or for the words of hatred, for something but he doesn't know why. He and Hong Kong had always been on good terms, he had always taken Hong Kong away from Arthur to visit his country because he always _knew_ how hard it was to be with Arthur. He knew what it was like to want to escape, to just get a taste of something different.

"I agree with you, Alfred," Hong Kong finally says and Taiwan glances back at America, grinning brightly at him.

"See, not everyone is against you," she laughs, linking arms with Hong Kong, who just rolls his eyes. And then they're moving away, back into the hallway, after Taiwan waves at Alfred, and he just watches them go before flicking his cigarette to the ground.

It was strange to him that the smallest of the Asian countries would be with him, would be against communism, would support him.

But it still felt nice...

He shoves his hands into his pockets and starts moving back to his car, back to his nation. If he lets his mind wander, he can hear that there's another protest going on today, that some man is screaming about how the Vietnamese need to be left alone through a megaphone and, for a moment, it feels like he's standing there amongst the crowd, whispering words of encouragement into their ears, telling them that they're allowed to do this because they're _free_, that he _fought_ for their _freedom_. They could protest, they could be so against the government, the army, everything that they were doing because they had that _right_. That the Vietnamese, well, they wouldn't be allowed to do this because they _weren't_ free and who, exactly, was fighting for their _freedom_?

No one.

And everyone deserved a chance.


End file.
